


Monster

by A_Candle_For_Sherlock



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Gen, Loneliness, Monsters, Tumblr Prompt, sometimes the night is safer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 13:22:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8329456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Candle_For_Sherlock/pseuds/A_Candle_For_Sherlock
Summary: Little things feel bigger when they frighten someone.





	

 

He has a metal pail in his hand. He's not very big--thinlegged, tousleheaded, strange, human child, walking along the sand leaving prints for the pipers to jump in and the water to fill. He stops for a piece of sea glass, drops it into the pail; she hears the soft clink, beneath the low rush of the tide. Summer nights come slowly, gold trailing on the water for an hour or more after the sun starts to drop. Most people have gone home by now, so why is there a boy out walking by himself, swinging his pail?

The windows of the human homes are lighting up, one by one, and she’s distracted now and then by a mother leaning out to call a child inside, or a father tapping his shoes on the steps, shaking out the sand before he goes in for dinner. But mostly she’s focused, watching him. He’s getting closer to where she’s hidden herself, in the cool shadows of the dock; she can rest her elbows on the rocks beneath, feel the water sway the curls of her tentacles while she waits. Most nights no one comes. They go into their pretty houses and close the doors. She wonders what they do all night; while the sea goes about its life unendingly, the land goes silent, as though they don’t love the night, don’t understand its kindness, how the shadows hide the things you don’t want to see, how the stars burn far above, too far away to put out, how it’s easy in the dark to frighten someone, if you want, to feel large instead of small. Because she is small.

And so is he. He’s coming straight down to the dock, now; no more stopping for shells or stones. His feet are bare. If he sits down on the dock and dangles his legs, she can grab his toes. Her hands are cold. It will make him scream, and his parents will hear him and feel stupid for letting him wander. He shouldn’t be so bold alone.

He steps onto the dock above her, the vibration sending little shivers through the water. A few minnows slip in among her tentacles to hide; one gives her a prickly nibble and she shakes herself to scare him off. She watches the edge of the dock, the sky turning an eternal violet-dark beyond as the twilight ebbs away, ready for the moment he’s tempted by the soft sound of the waves to trust his feet to the water.

When he speaks, she jumps.

“You can come out.” His voice is high and clear and just a little exasperated-sounding.

She doesn’t breathe.

A head pops over the edge of the dock, upside down, and he’s looking right at her. “I said you can come out.”

“Aaah!” She meant for it to be a roar, to frighten him, but it's more of a squeak. He grins. The upside-down head disappears, and then reappears, hanging lower, his hair fanning out as he dangles, as though he’s laid belly-down on the dock to look at her. She sees his fingers curl around the edge, steadying himself. “Come out? The stars will be out soon. I know where Jupiter is, and Orion.”

“They don’t care,” she says breathlessly. “They’re stars.”

“I know, but they’re still interesting to look at. I can tell you about the moon. Come out.”

She swims forward a little, out of the shadow of the dock, into the starlight. He props himself up on his forearms and says, “Tentacles. Cool. Why are you purple?”

“I don’t know, why are you brown?” She’s almost offended, except that his eyes are smiling, as though it’s fascinating that she should be purple with tentacles. “No, never mind that. Why aren’t you scared?”

“Of what? The dark?”

“Of course not of the dark. We can hide in the dark, and the stars won’t hurt us. Why aren’t you scared of me?”

“You aren’t very scary.” He scrunches his nose. “I saw a coon once, by the recycling bins. That was scary. It had fangs like this.” He bares his teeth at her. They’re small and white.

“But. I’m a monster.”

He sighs. “Who told you that?”

“What do you mean?” It’s obvious.

“Well, like, the other kids call me queer, and the teachers say I’ve a disorder, and Ben, that’s my mom’s boyfriend, he says I'm a little fucker when he hits me.”

“I don’t know what any of that means,” she says. The light from the water is caught in his hair.

He pushes off his belly, gets up crosslegged and rests his elbows on his knees. “I think it means whatever you mean by monster.”

“But you’re beautiful.”

He laughs; looks at her funny.

“No, but look. Look at the glass in your pail. Take it out.”

He frowns at her for a minute; digs a hand into the pail, pulls out the sea glass, a little chipped thing.

“Hold it up,” she orders him, and he does, and the starlight fills its pale green shape. “That’s what you look like,” she says, and he blinks at her and doesn’t say anything.

Then, “Broken?” His voice sounds small.

“Maybe, but look. It lets the light through.”

He stares at it. Then, “You look like that too.”

“Me?” She’s wet and soft and strange and not like him. “How can I?"

“Just like that.” He waves a hand at all of her. “Just like you.”

They’re quiet, while the sea rocks her slowly and the moon rises and the starshine is scattered and collected, over and over, on top of the waves.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for mychemicaltesttube's prompt: "Medusa is a little monster set to scare a little boy and just as she’s about to scare him, he says, 'Can you come out? I won’t hurt you, I promise. They say I’m a monster too.'"


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